Page 62 of Twisted Minds

Holy shit.

Hunter doesn’t move, rutting slowly into me, his cock jerking inside my tender hole. He slips out, and I feel so empty. I turn in his arms and kiss him, and his tongue rolls over mine before he pulls back, watching me, his hands cupping my face. Those beautiful brown eyes, they’ll be the end of me.

My head is cloudy but one thought breaks through.

Hunter has ruined me in the sweetest way. Not breaking eye contact, I swallow. “Put the plug back inside.” I bite my lip. “Please don’t leave tonight.” I know it’s selfish, but I don’t think I can handle being alone right now.

Gently turning me around, he grabs the toy and slips the silver bulb back inside me. Hunter turns me and pulls me against him for another kiss. “I already called Xavi. I asked him if he could hang out with his brother for the night.”

“Yeah?”

“If you want.”

I nod. “Please.”

“I was wondering. My friends—well, Xavi, his best friend Bri, and Jamie—we’re celebrating their sister’s birthday this weekend, and they want to have a small thing for it. Just us, hanging out, drinking by the bonfire. I want you to meet my other friends.”

“Yeah, uh, that sounds nice.” Inviting me to something like that feels so intimate. I have to ask, because Jamie makes me nervous, though. “Jamie doesn’t care if I sleep over?”

“He’ll deal with it. You’re my boyfriend, so he needs to get used to having you around.”

Because Hunter is serious. About me. He expects me to be around.

This is it.

This is the last weekend I can do this. I’m going to tell Hunter everything— about the blackmail and my suspicions—after the little party, so I don’t ruin it. I hope he’ll forgive me.Maybe Sawyer will even help me. I just can’t keep this to myself anymore. I’m no closer to finding anything out, and I just can’t do this. I certainly can’t hang out with Derrick—just thinking about him makes me sick—but he can’t keep living freely while he keeps hurting so many people. My grandfather’s watch is priceless, but so is Hunter. So is the love he gives me because yeah, I am completely and totally in love with this man. “I can’t wait.” He kisses me again.

One more week.

One more week and everything will come out.

twenty-two

Hunter

“Louder. Who do you belong to?”

“Hunter!”

“Louder.”

“Hunter!” I blink out of my trance. Fuck, yesterday has been on loop all night and all morning. In a couple of hours we’re going to my place, and I’m more than a little nervous. While I’m excited to introduce Mark to Xavi and Bri, tonight isn’t exactly a cause for celebration, although that’s what we’re trying to make it because she deserves it.

A year ago, Xavi and Jamie’s sister, who was also Bri’s girlfriend at the time, died in a car accident that killed three people and injured Jamie, mind, body, and soul. On her twenty-first birthday. We’re all still struggling with the aftermath, but Xavi wants to get together and have a small celebration to honor her. I’m a little shocked that Jamie’s allowing it, but I hope this may be the start of him healing a bit. “Sorry.” I skate over to the puck, looking up as one of my teammates skates onto the ice. What the hell? “Where’s your hoodie?”

“Huh?” Ivan, my defenseman, shoots three more pucks toward the net with the precision of a man who could skate before he could walk. “What?”

“Your . . . hoodie,” I repeat, as Mike skates onto the ice, dropping more pucks onto it, sans team hoodie. Instead, he’s wearing a jet-black sweater. “Where’syourhoodie?” I look around and notice four other guys don’t have theirs either, including Monty, but I know where his . . . is.

“I . . . don’t know.” Mike doesn’t meet my eyes.

“Where are all of your hoodies?” Immediately, they all busy themselves, looking away from me. Closing my eyes, I shake my head. “Coach is going to kill you all. Those aren’t cheap.” He’s already pissed I asked for a replacement for Monty. We’re required to wear hoodies on game days and at practice before the next game. At least Jake Benson has tried, he’s wearing a plain dark-blue sweater, but that’s not going to be good enough for Coach.

“Mine’s . . . dirty,” Trevor says.

“I’m sure it is.” My eyes lift to Benson, whose eyes are narrowed and bouncing from each hoodieless teammate to the next, like he’s calculating why all the other guys don’t have theirs while knowing damn well where they all may be. Finally he frowns, shaking his head and looking down at the ice. Then his eyes lift to mine.

“What?” he snaps.

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